


Night Watching

by Sir_your_face



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Or Is It?, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_your_face/pseuds/Sir_your_face
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been dead for a year now, so why is he showing up in John's bedroom at night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Watching

John wakes up to the sound of Sherlock’s breathing.

It is a quiet sound, a sound most would miss, especially with the thrumming of city night outside their- no, his- flat.

But John is trained in survival, the kind of training that a war abroad and a war at home demand. And so, although awake, he is careful not to move, careful not to alter the pattern of chest rising and chest falling.

This is the second time John has awoken to the presence of Sherlock in his bedroom. Wait, that’s not true. This is the second time John has awoken to the presence of Sherlock in his bedroom since Sherlock had fucking fucked up every last fucking thing.

John realizes that the tension that has crept along his jaw and neck at the thought of Sherlock standing on the roof at St. Bart’s… no, this was not helping, stop thinking about it.

_Adjust_

John lets out a small, sleepy noise, noncommittal, and turns slightly, away from Sherlock’s position against the far wall. He hopes he can pass it off, not sure if this Sherlock is as observant as the one in John’s head, the Sherlock who would certainly have noticed that John is awake, and is feigning sleep to avoid confrontation.

John continues to breathe, as calmly as possible, trying to still his thoughts, waiting.

Waiting for this Sherlock, this impossible Sherlock, to make the next move.

_Ball’s in your court, you cunt._

 

***************

 

The sun is gently peeking through the curtains. John wakes up with a start.

He is alone. He quickly scans the room, searching for some sign, some proof that Sherlock was there.

He finds none.


End file.
